Evanescent Wings
by Evanescent Dementia
Summary: "Harry James Potter, you have been convicted of high treason on accounts of conspiring to be the next Dark Lord, do you have any last words?" Harry looked into their eyes and knew them for what they really were. And there was only one thing left to say. "Goodbye." Time-travel fic. Grey!MasterofDeath!Harry. RonHermioneDumbles bashing. Pairings undecided.
1. Second Year

**This is a story that has been rattling around in my head for a few weeks, and it just highlights all my doubts about the plot as well as all the plotholes in the books. Don't get me wrong, the books were great, but I just don't think that some parts were plausible. Now, obviously I don't own the books, though I _would_ like to live in a castle.**

**Warning: This story will be rather dark as I have a twisted, horrible, mind and can't help torturing my favorite characters.**

Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, and Golden boy of the wizarding world was dying. He lay on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets; the body of the basilisk lay nearby, the monster's blood spreading outward in a dark pool. Ginny lay to his left, her body cold and still as the life drained out of her and into the book that projected the visage of Tom Riddle.

He had fought the Basilisk, armed only with a phoenix and a sword; he had fought and fell (killer since birth). He had plunged the sword into the Basilisk's mouth, blade cutting through muscle and bone (and oh, the _sound_) if he lived, (but he wasn't going to, too late, too late) he would never forget that sound.

He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the fang still in his hand, his consolation prize (I might be going, but I won't go alone). The sword lay somewhere off to the side glistening wetly with blood. He heard a rustle of wings as Fawkes landed next to him.

"Remarkable how quickly Basilisk venom penetrates the body, isn't it?" Riddle said, leering down at him, his face triumphant. "And look, even the bird's mourning your death." The memory laughed, staring down at his future (not anymore) enemy.

"You were brilliant, Fawkes, I just wasn't fast enough." Harry told the beautiful bird as Fawkes cried over his wound. The tears dripping down his beak and landing in the wound, stinging slightly, but not registering past the pain in the wound itself or the cold ache spreading through his body.

And isn't it strange that the blackness at the edge of his sight receeded? Wasn't it supposed to go black? Strength was returning to his limbs as he clenched his hands experimentally.

"Wait!" Riddle made a grab for the phoenix but went straight through the bird. He had realized too late that phoenix tears have healing properties. "You, Bird! Stop that!" Harry reached over and took the book from Ginny's hands, ignoring Riddle as he cursed, he opened it to a random page. He looked up at Riddle and stabbed the book with the Basilisk fang held in his hand. He watched as the image of fractured like glass. Ink spurted up around the fang, spattering Harry's hands. Riddle reached towards him threatening, then Harry closed the book and stabbed through the cover, Riddle shattered fading away into dust.

**Next chapter is the summer after second year. This story is a bit episodic and drabble-fic-ish at the moment, but it will pick up with longer chapters a bit later on. Now, show of hands, who hates me yet? No one? Oh, that'll change.**


	2. That Summer

**Once again I own nothing. **

**I do sort of hate myself for writing this, but, well, life goes on. Here comes the hate. **

It was a scorching summer day on Privet Drive and everyone was inside enjoying a glass of lemonade, or relaxing in front of the telly. Everyone, that is, except one boy. Harry Potter kneeled in the garden of house number four, weeding his aunt's garden. He kept his head down as he weeded the garden. The sun burning the skin of his neck and arms, turning them bright red.

When he twisted to pull a particularly stubborn weed, which was at the edge of his reach, the baggy shirt hanging off his frame pulled tight against his ribs revealing for just a second that they stuck out in sharp relief from his skin.

He had gained weight during his second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but it was halfway through the summer now. Between the sometimes-impossible tasks the Dursley's set him to and the insufficient amount, if indeed any at all, that they fed him the weight just melted off of him.

If one were to look at the skin under his clothes they would see it mottled with bruises and cuts, in various phases of healing, which came from when he didn't comply with his aunt and uncle's beliefs.

It might have been that he wasn't fast enough in making breakfast, or he said the wrong thing at the wrong time, or even that he existed. It didn't take much to set Vernon Dursley off. All it really took was an imagined slight or one bottle of beer too many.

Harry worked on the garden until it was time to make dinner for the Dursleys. He made sure to wash his hands thoroughly, knowing that Petunia would screech if she saw even a speck of dirt under his nails.

Harry laid on the floor of his room, surrounded by broken toys, just another fractured thing. The tears streamed down his faced as he tried not to scream in pain. The Dursleys had gone to bed hours ago, but he couldn't move from this spot, the pain too unbearable.

Vernon had caught him talking to snakes in the garden and the man had immediately dragged him indoors and beaten him. The thirteen year-old lay on his stomach hoping his uncle would get bored and leave.

He screamed when the knife hit his flesh, tearing open his skin in a long line on his back. He received a kick to the ribs for his outburst and he promptly bit his hand to keep himself from making another noise.

Outside, the neighbors drew their curtains closed and pretended they didn't hear anything.

Upon the small boy's back, written in crimson, was just the one word.

"Freak".

_**(line)**_

Harry panicked, he was almost hyperventilating as he hurriedly grabbed his things and raced out of the house. He had inflated his Aunt Marge like a macabre balloon.

Vernon was going to be so angry.

He had to get out of the house, before they stopped fussing after Marge and came for him.

Vernon would kill him.

The scars on his back ached, reminding him of the last time he did something, "Freaky" in his uncle's house.

He made it several blocks away from his house when he stopped to sit on a bench.

What was he going to do now? Would the wizards come and take him to prison? He could _not_ go back to the Dursley's! They would murder him!

He looked up, seeing a form on the other side of the road, he lifted his wand a bit higher, expanding the radius of light. It was a dog, a large black and shaggy dog.

Then the night bus appeared and he was off to the Leaky Cauldron.

**Let me know if you like the story.**

**Let me know if you hate the story.**

**Or just review and babble at me. I enjoy reviewer babble. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. I accept all babble, good and flame-y.**

_"You don't want to know that the most you could possibly achieve, if you gave it your all, if you harvested every screed of energy within you, and devoted yourself to improving yourself, that all you would get to is **maybe** eating less cheesy snacks. Nobody needs to know this."~Dylan Moran on Potential_


	3. Third Year

**The only thing substantial that I own at the moment is a '99 Oldsmobile that I have (under duress) named Gilligan. I wish I could own the Harry Potter series.**

**I promise you, this story does have a point other than reiterating Harry's years at Hogwarts. The story just has to get there.**

Harry loitered in the locker rooms as long as he could, talking with the others as he cleaned and polished his broom after Quidditch practice. He waited until he was the only one left in the locker room before he stripped to take his own shower.

Vernon Dursley had made sure that he could never again be careless about his state of dress when at school. The silvery-white scar tissue of the word carved into his back stood out starkly against his naturally tan skin. Marking him as what he was.

He had been the only one on the train to collapse when the dementors came on the train, (Not Harry! Please, Not Harry! Woman screaming, bright green flash) the only one to be so affected. Just as he was the only one to survive a killing curse. He had to be the only person to kill a full-grown basilisk at the age of twelve. He was an anomaly in an entire culture of anomalies.

What a freak.

* * *

><p>He had a godfather! A godfather!<p>

Sirius had taken him aside to offer him the option to live with him.

He had worried all year what he would do when he was sent back to the Dursley's (Petunia's hard eyes as she watched her husband beat the freakishness out of her nephew) or, more precisely, what Vernon would do to _him. _(Bleeding and bruising while slowly breaking under the onslaught of his uncle's blows) Now, the option to go home with Sirius, to never have to see those awful people again made him almost dizzy with the prospect.

"I'd understand if you don't want to, if you'd rather stay with your relatives…" Sirius had mistaken his silence for reluctance.

"No! I'm mean, no, I would love to come live with you, Sirius." He barely knew this man, had thought him a murderer until recently, but he couldn't be worse than Vernon and Petunia Dursley along with their whale son.

Harry fingered the lower leg of the 'k' carved into his back. The (horrid/ugly/nasty/painful/_true_) word spanned his back diagonally, from his left shoulder to his lower right side. The letter's lower leg curved halfway around his right side. He had picked up this habit of touching the scar whenever he was thinking about the Dursleys.

He had a godfather!

He was so excited to (Never see them again!) live with Sirius.

**I really do think that J.K. Rowling should have expanded on Harry's "home life" if you could call it that. The series is a tad unrealistic because: you take a boy that has, to some point, been neglected all his remembered life and throw him into a world that basicaly worships the ground he walks on, and expect him to defeat the most evil men and women they have to offer, forcing him into battles and situations that no child should ever be in, something in him is going to break. Very sorry for the run-on sentance.**

**By the bye, if you would like, you can submit your idea for who you think Harry should be paired with, and why. I have not conclusively decided who and will take your opinions into account. If you wish for him to be with an OC of your creation then please submit a thorough description of your character. **

**Please and thank you!**

_"And I'm not saying it's a bad song! Ya'know, or anything like that. All I'm saying is that you could get a, I dunno, a broom say, and dip it into some brake fluid, then put the other end up my arse, and stick me on a trampoline in a moving lift and I could write a better song on the walls! That's all I'm saying."~ Dylan moran on rap._


	4. That Summer and Fourth Year

**Sorry this one took so long to get out, I had it written, I just needed to get it typed up and revised. I did this at one in the morning so please excuse any typos. Well, the main reason this took so long was because first I was studying for and taking my college finals, and then I have been working feverishly on dreads.**

**A friend and I are going to be vendors at an anime con nearby and I am nowhere near ready. So I wouldn't predict any more updates until mid July-ish. I might have another one up before that, We'll just have to see how much time I have. **

**How can I own Harry Potter when I don't even own a copy of the books? So, yeah, don't own it.**

**(Line)**

No matter what else Harry might say about Vernon Dursley, he had to admit that his uncle was an intelligent man.

So when Harry came back to number four Privet Drive the summer after his third year and gave his family Sirius' threat, it worked for all of ten seconds.

Then Vernon realized that since he couldn't do magic during the summer, he couldn't get in contact with his criminal godfather, and since Harry had released Hedwig, giving her strict instruction not to come back until he was back at Hogwarts, before getting on the train, he was stranded.

It was then that Vernon remembered what Harry had done to Aunt Marge last summer.

Harry then received the beating of his life, Vernon carving up his back and sides with one of Petunia's good steak knives until he blacked out from blood loss.

Fortunately, Harry's magic had always had a mind of its own and tended to do as it wished, in this, and many other cases, it began to heal the boy at an extremely high speed.

So when Harry woke up, in his cupboard for the first time since that first letter from Hogwarts, all that was left of his injuries were copious amounts of dried blood and soreness. His ribs were sore, making him believe that at least one of them had been cracked or broken.

He was left in the cupboard for three weeks, Aunt Petunia coming by once a day to let him use the restroom, and they would shove sustenance through the door every once an awhile. Sometimes it would be bottled water, others an opened can of some unsavory vegetable or another.

By the end of the first month he had lost the weight he had gained over the school year. He was left with a collection of new scars and still tender ribs when the Weasleys came to pick him up for the Quidditch World Cup.

**(Just a linebreak)**

If there was one thing in the world that he loved with every fiber of his being, it was flying. When he was soaring through the skies he felt so safe, like nothing could touch him. The Durselys, Voldemort, Dumbledore,and all his problems stayed on the ground. All his worries, all his pain and sadness, just melted away to where an insatiable grin covered his face.

The numbers didn't matter so much when his feet were off the ground.

That's why he loved Quidditch so much. He didn't like watching as much as he adored playing but the world cup was amazing.

**(Scene)**

He was terrified, petrified, frozen to his seat. It was as if the gazes of a hundred Basilisks pierced his body at once as every person in the hall stared at him.

Dumbledore had just called his name.

The goblet of fire had spit out a fourth name for the _Triwizard_ tournament and that tiny (damning) piece of paper had his name on it.

His.

_Dumbledore_ had called _his name._

Hermione shoved him, he stumbled out of his seat (when had he stood?) and into the main aisle. He began making his way towards the headmaster. He could hear the whispers all around him.

He was such a freak.

Who else could manage to be a _fourth_ competitor in a _Tri_wizard tournament.

He was completely terrified. He was only fourteen, how was he supposed to compete in a tournament for seventh years? The challenges were for older, and wiser students who had had four years longer to learn.

He was going to die.

Somewhere during this tournament, his Potter luck was going to run out and he was going to die.

'_Dragons.'_ He thought. He had to fight a dragon.

Why on earth couldn't it have been another Cerberus? At least he knew how to get past those. Harry had shut himself in a broom cupboard to hyperventilate in private.

With Ron shunning him and Hermione trying to reason with the redhead, Harry was left alone most of the time.

'_Dragons!'_ he thought again with a hysterical edge to his thoughts.

**(Pay no attention to the words between the parentheses, this is just a linebreak)**

'_The answer is Spider!' The sphinx smirked, as if it knew something amusing that he didn't. _"Why, yes. Yes it is, isn't it."_ And then it moved aside and let him run past._

**(Here be a linebreak)**_  
><em>

_Running through the maze, his heart beating, his lung aching and his palms bleeding from where his nails kept digging into him. He was starting to get lightheaded, the stress from the tournament was costing him sleep and meals, leaving him the same weight as he had been at the beginning of the year._

_Cedric racing him, then falling and oh god not one of Aragog's children! They cast the spell together and the monster was curling its legs up in death._

'_Together.' They decided. They would both be champions and split the money and the fame. So they took it together and then the world was_

_Spinning._

"_**KILL THE SPARE!"**_

_Green flash/Cedric falling/Sickening thud._

_Tombstone and cauldron/Bone/Flesh/Blood._

_Voldemort rising._

_Dome of light and ghosts of the past (Please take my body back)._

_Grabbing the trophy and Cedric, (But it wasn't anymore) and spinningspinningspinning. Landing in front of the maze._

__**(linebreak)**

**Cliffhanger!**

**Well, I guess not really...**

**I decided that since I'd made you wait so long, you deserved the summer and the next year in one.**

**Tah-Dah!**

**So yeah, if you want to tell me how you liked this chapter or even hated this chapter, just press the nice button below and release your babble in my direction. It is marshmallow toasting season (as if one needs a time to roast marshmallows, psh.) so flames are also welcome.**

**Though I'm forced to ask, if you hate the story why have you kept reading this far into the story?**

**Farewell, beautiful people who have somehow stumbled onto my story. May a flaming meteor fall from the sky and into the genitals of someone you hate.**

_**"Don't you DARE use party as a verb in my shop"~Dylan Moran, Black Books.**_


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